The living room on the first floor of the mansion. 

Bo Yiming was helping Aunt Zhong organize the suitcase for gifts. 

Wen Cishu was half-lying on the sofa, hugging a pillow. 

He had been practicing Tai Chi diligently these past few days, and with all the walking, he started feeling a bit sore in the afternoon, occasionally rubbing his muscles. 

“Yiming, did you make sure there are no missing gifts for the kids?” 

It would be too embarrassing if they found out one was missing at the event tomorrow. 

“Nope!” 

Bo Yiming checked each one, “Aunt Zhong, I can handle it. I’m strong.” 

He zipped up the suitcase and put it away. 

Originally, Uncle Xu was supposed to help, but Wen Cishu didn’t let him. 

Little Monkey was too energetic, so it was good for him to do something to burn off energy, otherwise, he’d be too excited to sleep because of the show. 

Bo Yiming pushed the suitcase to a spot where it could be easily taken out tomorrow. 

Aunt Zhong walked over to Wen Cishu and asked softly, “Feeling better?” 

“Yeah.” 

Wen Cishu yawned lazily and glanced outside the living room. 

Aunt Zhong teased, “Is the eldest young master of the Bo Family suddenly lost today? Does he need you to wait here for him?” 

Wen Cishu chuckled and firmly denied, “No such thing. I’m not waiting for him.” 

Aunt Zhong made a knowing “tsk” sound, seeing through everything. 

“Little dad, I want to go see the little potato, are you coming?” 

Bo Yiming rushed over, blinking at his little dad, hinting like crazy. 

“Sure.” Wen Cishu put down the pillow and got up. 

Aunt Zhong draped a thin blanket over his shoulders. 

The long tassels of the blanket mixed with his black hair, swaying as Wen Cishu moved. 

In the garden. 

Bo Yiming bent down to study the potato in the pot, glanced around, and when Aunt Zhong wasn’t looking, he reached out to dig at the soil. 

“Little dad, look, this one sprouted a little!” 

The potato they brought back from the show was cut into four pieces, and after five days, one had sprouted a noticeable bud. 

Seeing his sneaky little look, Wen Cishu laughed and urged him to cover it back up, “Don’t let the little potato catch a cold. In a couple of days, they should all sprout.” 

When they planted it, Aunt Zhong said it would take about seven days for them all to sprout in this weather. 

“Okay!” Bo Yiming pushed the soil back, clapped his hands. “Little dad, did you know? Xingxing’s potato was put in water at home, and it sprouted faster than ours.” 

“Really?” Wen Cishu opened the blanket, pulled him into a hug, and asked with concern, “How come you have so much to talk about with Xingxing?” 

Bo Yiming snuggled under the blanket, leaning against his little dad, feeling so warm~ 

“I just talked to him, I asked if we should stop, and he said to talk about something else, and we ended up chatting for a long time.” 

“Is that so?” Wen Cishu thought, so it’s a little friendship that flows both ways. He ruffled his son’s hair, feeling happy for him. 

In the living room. 

Not long after the father and son left, Aunt Zhong was still tidying up the pillows on the sofa when Bo Tingyuan came home. 

Uncle Xu had just come out of the kitchen and went up to take the eldest young master’s coat. 

“Sir and the little young master went to the garden.” 

Bo Tingyuan nodded. 

Aunt Zhong added at the right time, “The second young master specifically waited here for you to come back, he’s been waiting since after dinner.” 

Bo Tingyuan turned to look at her, nodding to show he understood. 

Aunt Zhong continued, “The second young master’s waist seems a bit uncomfortable, but it’s not serious.” 

“Okay.” Bo Tingyuan headed towards the garden. 

Once the eldest young master was out of sight, Uncle Xu turned to look at Aunt Zhong, who was still tidying the sofa. 

For the first time in his career as a butler for a wealthy family, he felt such a strong sense of crisis. 

– 

In the garden. 

Wen Cishu was walking with his son, wrapped in a blanket, smiling warmly. He looked up and finally saw the figure returning late. 

“Big dad!” 

Bo Yiming peeked out from his little dad’s arm with a smile. 

“Little dad has been waiting for you to get off work, but you didn’t come home, so I took him to see the potato.” 

“Mm.” 

Bo Tingyuan walked up, ruffled his son’s hair, then pulled the blanket from his shoulders and wrapped it around Wen Cishu. 

Feeling suddenly chilly, Bo Yiming: ??? 

Wen Cishu was about to speak when he saw him naturally bend down and hug him. 

Just like yesterday in the kitchen, facing each other, holding him close, making Wen Cishu’s ears turn red, but he couldn’t push him away, so he just pulled the blanket around his broad shoulders and asked softly, “Did you have dinner?” 

“Mm.” 

Bo Tingyuan felt the warmth coming from him, holding him tightly. 

He turned to go inside, reminding his son, “Yiming, let’s go in.” 

Bo Yiming thought big dad was going to take his blanket, but it turned out he wanted to hug little dad. 

He happily followed along. 

The three of them walked into the brighter light inside the house. 

Wen Cishu nestled in Bo Tingyuan’s arms, the blanket keeping them warm, creating a cozy little space just for the two of them. 

His face rested on his shoulder, listening to Little Monkey chatter to big dad. His eyes curved unconsciously—if it could always be like this, how peaceful and happy it would be. 

The next second, Wen Cishu noticed Uncle Xu and Aunt Zhong in the living room, quickly turning his face to bury it in Bo Tingyuan’s neck, whispering so only he could hear, “Just say I fell asleep.” 

Uncle Xu and Aunt Zhong heard footsteps and almost simultaneously turned their heads, seeing the eldest young master carrying the sir. 

The two middle-aged people, one lowered their eyes, the other shifted their gaze to the bouncing little young master. 

Aunt Zhong asked, “Yiming, did you go touch the potato again?” 

Bo Yiming stuck out his tongue, “Aunt Zhong~ I only dug up one! Didn’t touch the others.” 

Aunt Zhong shooed him to wash his hands. 

Wen Cishu breathed a sigh of relief, glad Aunt Zhong didn’t ask. 

Bo Tingyuan, really, wasn’t it fine the usual way? Why change the habit suddenly? 

Once in the elevator. 

Wen Cishu lifted his face, moved back a bit, and softly said, “Put me down, I can walk myself.” 

In this old antique elevator, there was a modern glass lamp. 

The intricate carvings on the lampshade would cast shadows with the light, now falling on Wen Cishu’s thick black hair. 

Bo Tingyuan hadn’t noticed before. 

Now he stepped back. 

The shadow of the glass lamp fell perfectly on Wen Cishu’s porcelain white, soft face, forming a beautiful picture with his pretty eyes. 

Wen Cishu, being watched by his gem-like green eyes, was a bit puzzled, gently pushing him, “Did you hear me?” 

Just as he finished speaking, his lower back tightened, pulling him against his chest. 

The elevator stopped, and Bo Tingyuan felt his cheek brush against his temple as he fell into his arms. 

His hand gently rubbed Wen Cishu’s lower back, “Aunt Zhong said your waist is uncomfortable.” 

Wen Cishu thought: That’s not related at all. 

But his hand was warm, the heat seeping through the clothes to his skin, quite comfortable, so he didn’t refuse. 

In the bedroom, Bo Tingyuan sat on the sofa, still not letting go of him. 

Wen Cishu ended up kneeling on his lap, initially wanting to move away, but as soon as he moved, he felt the hand on his waist tighten. 

“Why is it suddenly uncomfortable?” 

Bo Tingyuan smoothed his long hair behind his ear, the other hand probing his waist. “Here?” He moved slightly to the side, “Or here?” 

“Hiss—” 

Wen Cishu felt a twinge, slightly raising his chin, his neck forming a sexy arc, the black hair on his back swaying. 

Bo Tingyuan lowered his gaze, watching the small mole on his snow-white neck. 

Usually well-hidden, it only occasionally peeked out, faintly visible among the strands of hair. 

Wen Cishu focused on the sensation of his hand, feeling the pressure of his fingers, guiding him, “A bit to the left, uh—” 

He suddenly realized they were tightly pressed together, breathing in sync, their lips possibly only a few centimeters apart. 

He couldn’t help but stiffen, slightly lowering his head to support himself on the sofa armrest. 

“It’s nothing, really not serious.” 

Bo Tingyuan still didn’t let him go, continuing to silently knead the slender waist that fit perfectly in his hand. 

The ache in his waist made Wen Cishu bite his lower lip slightly. 

He didn’t dare meet those deep green eyes, just lowered his gaze, and when the hand on his lower back pressed a bit harder, his hand unconsciously supported his strong arm. 

As Wen Cishu consciously held back the urge to gasp, the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. 

Only Bo Tingyuan’s slightly heavy breathing and the rustling of his hand on the fabric of his clothes. 

These sounds, though extremely faint, felt like ants crawling in Wen Cishu’s ear, creating a huge sensation in his senses. 

Bo Tingyuan looked down at him, “Does it hurt when I press like this?” 

“No…” Wen Cishu answered off-topic, “I need to shower and rest, have to get up early tomorrow.” 

Bo Tingyuan: “Mm.” 

But his hand didn’t stop, continuing to knead back and forth. 

Wen Cishu didn’t remind or emphasize, leaning against his arm, lowering his head, resting his forehead on his shoulder, letting him press. 

But the feeling in his lower back became more pronounced, as if the hand might slip under his clothes at any moment, making him instinctively arch his back and then quickly relax. 

At this moment, familiar little monkey footsteps came from outside. 

Wen Cishu was about to speak but was lifted by a force. 

As Bo Tingyuan stood up when his son entered, he said, “Yiming, I’m taking your little dad to shower. Wait here, I have something to talk to you about.” 

“Okay~” Bo Yiming didn’t notice anything unusual, jumping onto another long sofa, hugging a soft pillow and flipping over. 

Wen Cishu was carried into the bathroom, only feeling grounded when his feet touched the floor. 

Bo Tingyuan gently removed the blanket from his shoulders, smoothing out his black hair. 

Wen Cishu didn’t have time to feel the slight chill around him, unexpectedly catching a glimpse of Bo Tingyuan’s expression in the mirror, as if he was undressing completely in front of him. 

When Bo Tingyuan looked at him, Wen Cishu quickly avoided his gaze, holding onto the edge of the sink, reaching for his toiletries, “You go out, I’ll brush my teeth.” 

“Don’t take too long.” 

Bo Tingyuan reminded, turning to leave. 

Wen Cishu leaned against the sink, watching him walk out, the blanket draped over his arm, his back elegant and gentlemanly. 

He came back to his senses, looking at himself in the mirror, his hand unconsciously touching his lower back, then quickly pulling away. 

When Wen Cishu finished washing up, changed into pajamas, and walked out of the bathroom. 

The bedroom was unusually quiet, without the little monkey’s noise. 

Bo Tingyuan sat on the sofa by the bed, reading a book. 

“Where’s Yiming?” Wen Cishu yawned, lazily covering his mouth. 

As he got closer, he noticed Bo Tingyuan was holding a French fairy tale book. 

Bo Tingyuan closed the book and looked up. 

After bathing, Wen Cishu was soft as jade, lazily charming. 

Bo Tingyuan put down the book, got up to pull back the covers for him, helping him lie down. 

“I told him to sleep in his own room tonight.” 

Wen Cishu lay on the soft pillow, blinking, teasing with a light laugh, “Then who’s going to tell me a bedtime story tonight?” 

As soon as he said it, he worried Bo Tingyuan might misunderstand, so he instinctively pressed his lips together, pulling the covers under his deep gaze, softly saying, “I can sleep on my own.” 

Bo Tingyuan touched his ear tip, his voice deep, “I’ll come after I shower,” 

He paused, then added, “to tell you a story.” 

“Oh.” Wen Cishu’s feet under the covers wiggled, watching him leave. 

—Is he really going to tell a story to put me to sleep? 

Wen Cishu couldn’t help but lower his head, curving his lips. 

Not that he was that eager~ 

But it would definitely be much smoother than Little Monkey’s French~ 

Wen Cishu happily slid under the covers, trying hard to suppress his smile, and as he closed his eyes, he forced them open wide— 

He couldn’t fall asleep first.